


Purify

by StarryNox



Series: FE Femslash Week 2016 [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/F, Multi, fe femmeslash week 2016, prompt: armor, which is mentioned but not depicted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 19:47:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7905322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarryNox/pseuds/StarryNox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a challenge, squeezing the three of them into a bath made for one, but they manage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Purify

Faintest of smiles tugs at Ruya’s lips as Chrom leads them all in a rallying cry, a promise they’ll topple King Gangrel from his perch and bring peace to the continent once more—at least, however much peace can be obtained when the undead crawl throughout the countryside. She may have lifted Chrom from the depths of his despair over losing the Exalt, but only he can spur the Shepherds on the way he does, even with the slight shake of his hands and the tightness ‘round his eyes offering confessions of how close he is to breaking once again. Their commander offers one last forced smile before ducking out of the main hall, Lissa trailing after him.

 

Exhaustion. That’s all Ruya feels now as she leans almost absently against Sumia, her head resting upon the cold metal of the pegasus knight’s armor. Her mind nags at her to return to the section of the library the Khans were kind enough to offer up as a makeshift study, to pour over maps and battle diagrams until she determined just _where_ everything went wrong, to plan how she’ll phrase her private apologies to Chrom and Lissa, when she’ll bend her head and offer to leave the Shepherds if they feel they’ve lost faith in her, no matter how much the prospect of leaving her entire world behind hurts. But weariness wins, as does the selfish desire to draw even the smallest amount of comfort from the knight at her side, and when Sumia wraps an arm around her, leaning her head on top of Ruya’s, Ruya realizes that maybe she’s not the only one who needs this.

 

Guilt churns in her stomach once again. It’s her fault, too, that the pegasus knights, once Ylisse’s vanguard, are in shambles, all of them lying dead in the desert sands save for the two standing in this room. It’s her fault that Cordelia has had to witness for a second time the slaughter of her knight-sisters at the hands of the Plegian army.

 

Ruya closes her eyes at the sound of the familiar clink of armor, the familiar footfalls and a sigh she’s heard more times than she can count. A gloved hand settles onto her shoulder, and she forces her eyes open, no matter how much she fears what she’ll find in Cordelia’s gaze.

 

“I think a nice, _warm_ bath is in order, don’t you?” Cordelia’s attempt at a smile is fragile and flickering, but Ruya latches onto it the way she latches onto Sumia’s steady presence, and she nods.

 

It’s a challenge, squeezing the three of them into a bath made for one, but they manage. Cordelia wordlessly commandeers the soap, and though neither Ruya nor Sumia need help cleaning days’ worth of grime off their persons, they know their companion well enough to remain silent, to allow Cordelia to take whatever comfort she can in the menial task.

 

The water is cold by the time Cordelia’s finished cleaning off the two of them and requests time alone. Ruya bites her lip as Sumia agrees, the other flier practically tugging her out of the bath.

 

“Call us if you need anything?” For Ruya refuses to leave Cordelia to herself without saying at least this. A meek nod is all she receives, but it’s enough.

 

The floor of Cordelia’s quarters is cold beneath her feet, and both shiver as they help themselves to Cordelia’s spare clothing—too large for either of them, but neither wants to leave Cordelia alone to make a towel-clad trek back to their own rooms. Sumia twists at the loose fabric of her shift.

 

“Will you braid my hair?” For Ruya knows the other likes to keep her hands busy at times like these, and she’s rewarded with a grateful (if weak) smile as Sumia settles behind her, fingers carefully combing through any tangles left by Cordelia’s handiwork.

 

Muffled sobs float through the door separating them from their third, and guilt stirs once again in Ruya’s gut.

 

“She doesn’t blame you, you know.” Sumia’s voice is gentle, and that hurts far more than sharp words. “And neither do I.” Ruya finds herself choking on the words she wants to speak.

 

“But it’s my fault. They died because of my plans. We weren’t able to save Emmeryn because of my plans. We—”

 

“I won’t let you blame yourself for events out of your control. None of us could have known they would summon Risen archers.” A ribbon is tied, and Ruya feels a rope of her hair settle against her back. “And I won’t allow you to use guilt to escape grief, either.” Ruya blinks, tears stinging the corners of her eyes as she shifts to face Sumia, who has tears of her own streaming down her cheeks but somehow keeps a steady voice.

 

Ruya lets herself go. She’s not sure who pulls the other into an embrace first, but it isn’t long before they’re wrapped in each other’s arms, their own sobs mingling with Cordelia’s. A symphony of grief—one part shared, one part private.

 

The door to the bathroom clicks open. Quiet footsteps, the dip of the mattress, a third set of arms. Cordelia’s skin still holds droplets of moisture from the bath, but they hardly notice as they cling to each other.

 

Grief gives way to exhaustion. It’s another challenge, to squeeze into a bed made for one, but at a time like this, there’s nowhere else they’d rather be.

**Author's Note:**

> A thank you to my lovely friend Cass for helping me come up with a title for this! Comments would be much appreciated.


End file.
